


Perhaps Maybe

by barcelona



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, Choking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Rough Sex, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 00:43:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9355697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barcelona/pseuds/barcelona
Summary: Based on:This PostAfter Sportacus starts avoiding Robbie, Robbie tries to get an answer from the elf, but things do not exactly go to plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Folle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Folle/gifts).



> _Honest to Goodness, I had written exactly 0 words of smut before this but I was unexpectedly inspired by the amazing Folle's HC's (and top-notch writing) and decided to give it a go. And breaking nearly five years of writer's block with LazyTown smut was not how I imagined kicking 2017 off, but here we are, and I can't honestly say I regret a thing - Thanks for stopping by! Hope ya enjoy!_

A week.

Exactly one week, that turned into two, turned into three, a month and a holiday, a year, and finally, _finally_ , Robbie had admitted that maybe perhaps okay, they were friends. Just friends, and just barely, but you would never know it from the dopey little smile that declaration had earned him. And yeah, okay, perhaps maybe Robbie had sneered a sneer that wasn't quite a sneer too.

Which had put two acts of caring under his chest-high belt and either would have been tiring, but both, at the same time?? Downright exhausting. And was any of that appreciated by certain flipping blue sports elves?

No.

Because not two days, two freaking days, into their official friendship, Mr. Muscles had apparently decided that Mr. Rotten's affections were unworthy of the time and effort they required.

And that _hurt_.

A lot more than Robbie had expected it to. Though that might have been because for once in his god awful existence he hadn't _been_ expecting it, at all.

At least not with Sportacus.

Whom had saw fit to make himself scarce any time he seemed to get so much as a whiff of Robbie's approach. It had already gotten to the point that the children were worried. The children. As if Robbie needed more embarrassment.

Robbie had almost been tempted to seek their assistance when previous attempts to corner Sportacus had not gone in Robbie's favor. Then that morning, Sportacus had, yet again, flipped away from the mere sight of him and Robbie had been incensed to give chase.

Fortunately, for Robbie, Mr. Flippity had been in such a hurry to get far, far away, he had plum forgot to reel the ladder back up, giving Robbie a direct route to the elf.

Unfortunately, that was Robbie's only route.

Rottens were nothing if not persistent in their pursuits, however, and while Robbie would have very much rather been home sul- _sleeping_ in his recliner, he had felt entitled to an explanation. Or barring that, a goodbye.

Once Robbie had actually hauled himself up into the airship, however, any plan he had prepared had been shattered upon contact with a very agitated, very uninterested in talking, and possibly panicking elf. Fueled by as much indignation as he could muster, Robbie hardly took notice as he tried to get Sportacus to _stop_ and _listen_ for two measly seconds!

How that confrontation ended with Robbie being locked into Sportajerk's spare closet was beyond him.

Yet there he stood, cramped and fuming behind a piece of fogged glass.

“Can't even hold still long enough for a conversation,” Robbie mumbled, then hissed when he banged his knee, again, on the wall. While not claustrophobic per se, the space clearly hadn't been designed to hold a person, let alone someone who was half-a-head taller than its usual owner.

Robbie had to hike his crossed arms up towards his shoulders just to have enough room to slam his hand against the door, “Did you forget about me, Sportadunce, or is there another reason I'm still in here!?”

“I'm sorry, Robbie,” Came the muffled reply, Sportacus speaking in that high and tight tone he'd used earlier, “I am working on getting you out, I promise!”

“Promise harder!” _What? No_ , Robbie shook himself, “I am pretty sure, if you would just open the door, I could go on my own.”

“Robbie-”

The voice of the AI interrupted whatever excuse Sportacus was about to spout, and although he could not hear the words themselves, Robbie did make out the hero's bark of denial at whatever the ship had said. Then the lights suddenly dimmed and temperature seemed to drop with them. Everything else went very quiet, and very still, the soft thrum of the engines the only discernible noise beyond Robbie's breathing.

Frowning, Robbie put his ear against the door and called out, “Sportaflop?”

 _Ow,_ Robbie banged his head into the back of the closet after a shadow suddenly slammed into the glass and slid to the floor. Wincing at the possible egg forming on his skull, Robbie managed a scowl for the silhouette of what he hoped was a very remorseful sports hero. Said silhouette, however, seemed more preoccupied with removing its hat and running fingers through a mess of curls than bothering with death glares they could not see.

“Hey,” Robbie smacked the glass again, startling Sportacus, “Sportaflip, I did not climb two hundred feet of shoddy sport rope to be locked in your closet, let alone ignored.”

Sportacus sighed, _sighed_ , then leaned back against the door, and when he spoke, he sounded both tired and afraid, “No, Robbie, you did not. I'm sorry. I should have explained sooner, maybe then, we would not be here.”

“And where is here, exactly?”

“In trouble,” Sportacus chuckled dryly, “Robbie, I have made a very big mistake.”

“No offense, Sportacork, but I am probably the last person you need to point that out to,” Robbie said, though without the usual edge of irritation, “I thought we were friends.”

“The best,” Sportacus turned where he sat, splaying a hand over the glass, and Robbie thought he saw it trembling, “We are, I-I promise.”

“Then tell me what's going on.”

“I cannot.”

“Sport-”

“I will not.”

Robbie sighed, “Did you not just say we were friends? And don't friends, trust friends? You probably have a song for that.”

“Yes,” Sportacus answered to either, or, probably both. Though definitely a little huskier than usual, which made Robbie finally take notice of the heaving shadow that was Sportacus' chest, “But if I – If you knew – Robbie, we would no longer _be_ friends.”

“Whatever it is, Sportaloon,” Robbie tried for patience, “I promise to still be your friend, after, you tell me. Cross my heart, hope t… cry.”

Quiet.

Then Sportacus turned back around, and Robbie swore he heard a whimper that went places Robbie was not going to think about until he was back in the privacy of his home, before Sportacus reluctantly asked, “What do you know about elves?”

_Really?_

“Other than they have a revulsion to walking like an actual person, and a penchant for corrupting perfectly lazy children into noisy brats? Absolutely nothing.”

“Okay, Robbie," Sportacus huffed, unsurprised he knew, “What about elf biology?”

Actually, absolutely nothing, “What, did you eat the wrong fruit or something?”

“No,” Sportacus said, “I wish it were that simple.”

And god, so did Robbie.

Because when he had climbed out of his hole that morning, there were things that Robbie was wholly unprepared to be informed of involving his budding friendship.

First being that elves had apparently magically enhanced a natural heat in some fit of self-preservation. A heat that was already powerful enough to rob even the strongest willed of their senses at the scent of another adult, and Sportacus was only "slightly above average".

Secondly, that Sportacus knew this and was overly prepared for the situation, having somehow programmed his ship to shut down and fly away for the duration of the heat, ignoring any command on his part to do otherwise. Thus keeping the haze crazy elf away from anyone who would find his whimpering advances unwanted.

Unfortunately, these precautions also meant Robbie was very much trapped for the next week or two.

And last, but not least, that Sportacus' heat had blindsided him a couple days ago. This had caused his avoidance of Robbie, less he pressure their friendship.

Though it seemed by merely talking about it, Sportacus had worked himself into a squirming, fussing mess anyway. The elf wasn't the only one affected by the desperate noises worming their way between every other strained word, and Robbie had been growing rather more and more aware of how painfully cramped his space was.

“Y-you're saying, hmn, huh, that you're, currently, as in, right now,” _A pane of glass away_ , Robbie slowly exhaled a breath, pressing a hand against the tightness coiling in his stomach. Either he was suffocating or the closet had gotten smaller, “Indisposed?”

“Yes," Sportacus agreed, breathy.

“No way this is a false alarm,” Robbie squeaked hopefully, knowing the answer before he really finished the question.

“No, I am too old for that. Not by much, mind you, but still...”

“So? You circled the wrong day o-on the calendar, or something?”

“No, yes. No. Yes.”

“Well, which is it!?”

“Both. Robbie,” Sportacus sighed, “Sometimes, only sometimes, a haze can be triggered early. Either by circumstance or a-a… stimulant. If a situation is dire or an elf meets someone they really, really, really, really, really care about...”

“And?”

“ _Robbie_ ,” Sportacus whined and banged his head back against the glass, “When you said we were friends, it made me really, really, really, really, happy. So happy-”

“Stop. Stop! Just, hold a minute,” Because this was not happening, “Are you saying, what I think you are saying?”

“Robbie,” Sportacus really had to stop saying his name like _that_ , “I'm sorry. I didn't-”

“Sport-”

“-want to make you uncomfortable! O-or feel pressured to help, or-”

“Sportacus.”

“-I'm sorry, I am, I-I'll tie myself up! Then you can come out, and-”

“Sportacus – _Shut. Up_.”

Miraculously he was listened to.

Robbie leaned back on the closet wall with a sigh. How in the world did he get into these situations?

Not that he was complaining. He was just having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Sportacus, overly exercised, finely muscled, admittedly okay to look at, _Sportacus_ , had heavily implied that he found Robbie Rotten, proud paunch owner and incredibly handsome (almost too handsome), apparently so attractive that his body had been driven to madness.

A madness that was watering Sportacus' voice the longer they talked. A madness that could only be driven away by one solution. One incredible solution, that was simultaneously thrilling and nerve wracking to think about.

Robbie pressed his palm against the glass where the shadow of Sportacus' neck sat. He could almost feel the fever through the door.

Okay.

“Perhaps,” Robbie started, “If-If you had told me, before, what was wrong, I might have avoided being locked in a closet. As it is, you've just delayed me, h… helping you.”

Sportacus straightened, tilting a pointed ear towards him, “Robbie?”

“We're friends, aren't we? A-and friends, _help_ , each other.”

Sportacus sighed, “Robbie, you don't-”

“I'm not,” he insisted, “I'm really not, Sportadork. I'm volunteering. Wholeheartedly.”

A moment.

“Robbie-”

“Look, Sportacus,” The words fought their way out, but they got out nonetheless, “I-I-I-I really, really, really, care about you, too.”

“Really, really?”

Oh, oh ho, Robbie smiled a little at Sportacus' teasing tone, “Really, really.”

Robbie could practically hear Sportacus grin, but still, the elf seemed to hesitate, shifting in his seat. When next Sportacus spoke, it was soft and sincere.

“I do not want to hurt you.”

 _But I want you to_ , “I won't let you.”

A moment.

Without a word, Sportacus' silhouette rolled up to its feet and drew away from the glass.

More silence followed, lasting almost a beat too long, before there came a soft chime and the door slid up into the ceiling.

Whatever witty remark Robbie had ready was lost against the sudden grip on his vest, a pair of unbelievably strong fists hauling him forward out of the closet. When he tripped over the threshold, those strong hands were the only thing that kept him upright. Robbie barely managed a squawk of surprise before he was pulled down against a pair of bruising, chapped lips, and _god_ , Sportacus was a furnace.

A trembling, mess of a furnace who broke their first kiss with a gasp.

Pressing their foreheads together, Sportacus stood there panting, his breath hot against Robbie's chin and neck. He had yet to release Robbie's vest, holding onto the man as though he were an anchor against a hurricane, and Robbie found himself staring.

Sportacus was flushed and unfocused with blond bangs plastered by sweat, absent of both vest and hat and utterly gorgeous.

“Fuck,” Robbie whispered, and Sportacus looked up at him, brow raised.

“ _I_ could go in the closet,” he offered weakly.

“Maybe later,” Robbie promised, trailing fingers up Sportacus' neck and dipping back down for a no less needy kiss.

And there were a dozen lonely nights that amounted to nothing against the quiet huffs of pleasure being hummed into his lips.

They were entirely too dressed for the occasion.

No sooner had Robbie thought it, then shaky fingers were fumbling at his belt and he quickly swatted them away, taking over. Getting the message, Sportacus broke their kiss and spun around to reveal the zipper going down his back.

Already halfway through removing his vest, Robbie turned and reached as best he could for the metal tongue. He just managed to pinch the damn thing and pull, successfully freeing the hero’s shoulders and releasing a swath of toned muscle from the blue.

And good god, Robbie forgot what breathing was.

Dry mouthed and loathed to look away, Robbie shook the last bit of vest off his arm and slipped his belt loose, hearing Sportacus do the same. Unsure if he was swaying or having trouble seeing, Robbie fought to unbutton his spats, but cursed and gave up, simply kicking his pants off over them.

With a triumphant smile, Robbie looked up just in time to be met with another crushing kiss by an unfairly, unfathomably naked Sportacus.

This time around, need gave way to passion, and a tongue pushed hot at Robbie's mouth until he let it in, earning himself a moan that lit a fire down his belly.

Eyes rolling, Robbie wrapped an arm about Sportacus' shoulders and was bodily lifted by the thighs and turned towards the bed, for which Sportacus had growled for over Robbie's lips.

And _this_ was _happening_.

Robbie fell onto the freshly lowered mattress and scooted backwards as Sportacus crawled up after him, yanking one shoe off Robbie, then the other, possibly popping the buttons in the process.

Not to fall behind, Robbie was quick to remove his undershirt, tossing it aside. Nearly naked, Robbie took a moment to drink in the sight sat kneeling between his feet.

 _Fuck_.

Eager eyes followed a trail of sweat down the slick, heaving slab of muscle disguised as an elf. Running to a set of strong and trembling thighs and the thick, weeping cock that hung erect between them. The head of which was wet with precum.

And _Fuck_.

The needy whimper that escaped Robbie was thankfully enough to galvanize Sportacus back into action.

Robbie was pulled onto his back as Sportacus made short work of his boxers, the man's erection finally freed and aching to be touched. A message Sportacus received eagerly, wrapping a surprisingly soft hand around Robbie and Robbie bucked up into the touch.

It felt like it had been forever since Robbie'd been anywhere near here last, and Sportacus was grinning, teasing with a few twisting pumps, enjoying the feel of the man in his grip, his little gasps of pleasure.

When Robbie bucked again, impatient, Sportacus pinned a hand to his hip and pulled away.

Too soon, Robbie fussed, but Sportacus was urging Robbie's legs further apart and began to suck a pair of fingers wet. Robbie strangled some noise of disbelief at the sight, and Sportacus smirked knowingly in return.

Then he spread his own knees beneath Robbie's thighs, lifting the man slightly, and palmed Robbie one last time before he eased the first of two fingers against Robbie's entrance.

Robbie hissed and pressed his head back into the mattress, squirming against the working intrusion. The initial sting was quick to dissipate under the mask of arousal, however, and Robbie needed more, wanted more. 

Fortunately, so did Sportacus.

Sportacus surged forward with the second finger and captured Robbie's curse between them.

The moan that escaped Robbie turned into Sportacus' as he sucked and kissed his way down Robbie's jaw and across his collar, their skin electric where they met. Then Sportacus' fingers curled inside him and Robbie's world was a bolt of white pleasure.

 _Fuck_.

Sportacus came away and placed a palm to Robbie's cheek, blue eyes blown wide and hungry and needy and-

 _I don't want to hurt you_.

“Please,” Robbie begged, fingers twisting in the sheets, “ _Please_.”

Sportacus kissed Robbie again, growling something feral that sent shivers down his spine.

Then Sportacus pushed Robbie further up the bed and drew back, hands trembling down Robbie's torso. When they found hip, they grabbed, strong, bruising, and Robbie was jerked forward again, pulled flush against Sportacus' waist. Their erections slid against each other, eliciting a hiss from either of them, and the elf simply held Robbie for a moment, hips moving in short ruts.

Panting.

Robbie, having reached out instinctively against the sudden movement, had one hand returning the bruises to Sportacus' thigh, the other holding onto the bed. And when Robbie thought to hurry Sport along with a few scratches, there was a hand on his leg, lifting, stretching, and slicked from their combined precum, Sportacus slipped inside him.

And the elf thrust.

And Robbie grunted.

And Sportacus growled, low and possessive and _God_.

Robbie arched up off the bed, Sportacus' thrusts hard and desperate in his need to fuck Robbie, to _be_ in Robbie. Every jerk of Sportacus' hips bringing with it the slap of skin on skin, and Sportacus' eyes glazed over, one hand still bending him open under the knee, the other pressing into the mattress at Robbie's shoulder as he folded Robbie over himself, rising up off his calves. Their breath mingled were Sportacus had nearly brought them nose to nose.

And Robbie was lost in the intensity of those black blown blues, his own erection leaving a white, sticky mess over his stomach, frustrating pleasure and pain coming together in a way that threatened to untangle him.

And this was Sportacus, his Sportacus, get out of town, no let's be friends, Sportacus. 

Stupid and kind and gentle and good, and _Sportacus_. 

And this was happening. 

Then Sportacus adjusted the angle between them, and Robbie was hot electric, his moan apparently the push over the edge the elf needed.

Sportacus' grip was crushing on Robbie's thigh as warmth spread inside him and the elf's effort to fuck Robbie through the bed came to a stuttering stop. With a few half thrusts more, Sportacus rode out his climax and then released his hold on Robbie, slipping out, and leaving the man somehow unsatisfied and empty, and yet drifting in ecstasy.

Sportacus, panting hard, nearly fell on top of Robbie, but caught himself, hands on either side of Robbie's head. He didn't seem to be anywhere as he looked down at his partner, and though Robbie still ached for his own release, his eyes were soft looking back.

Gently, Robbie reached out and urged Sportacus down, hands on his shoulders, and that was a request the elf was obliged to follow. Dropping to his elbows, Sportacus pressed their temples together, allowing Robbie to run soothing fingers up and down his back and tangle into those dirty blond curls.

Robbie couldn't exactly explain what came over him, but he felt the need for quiet sweet nothings, his voice soft and plying as he brought them to a calm.

Then there were chapped lips on his, and Sportacus urged Robbie into a languid kiss, tongues once more enjoying the feel of the other in tender exploration. 

All while Robbie's erection feebly sought the friction between their sticky stomachs. And though unattended, it was not unnoticed. 

Sportacus gave Robbie a final kiss, then pushed off of him, and sat back on his legs. More clear eyed, Sportacus brought his hands down Robbie's body, massaging where there were reddening marks. Robbie merely watched him, enjoying the attention, though waiting, curious.

At least until he took note that with every pass over Robbie's hips, Sportacus' semi was rapidly growing back to full arousal.

 _Oh_.

Okay.

Sportacus noticed Robbie staring and gave a wobbly smile, still looking a little dizzy, but there was promise in that gaze.

Retaking a grip on Robbie, Sportacus urged him onto his stomach, and Robbie eagerly turned himself over with some help. Those same firm hands brought Robbie's hips over his knees, spreading him wide and open, and ready for the taking.

And judging by the noise that Sportacus made, it was quite the sight.

Whimpering, Sportacus gripped the soft flesh of Robbie's ass, fingers digging down. Robbie took a breath in anticipation, bracing, but Sportacus' weight did not shift in the way he had expected. Instead there was a hand reaching under to Robbie's cock, and Robbie shuddered at the unexpected touch. Sportacus twisted his fist around Robbie, once, then twice, then Robbie felt the elf slip off the bed.

Confused, Robbie looked back just as Sportacus leaned forward off the floor and added his mouth to his hand's work.

Robbie shivered a moan, and Sportacus groaned, tongue hot where it splayed over Robbie's flesh, licking up Robbie's length, over his balls, and pushing what cum had leaked out back where he obviously thought it belonged.

And _Fuck_.

Robbie moaned again, and Sportacus returned the noise, high and needy, continuing his ministrations.

 _Interesting_.

The next time Sportacus licked his way up Robbie's sex, Robbie exaggerated the moan, and Sportacus whined back at him.

Correction: _Fun_.

Robbie's next moan was soft and near orgasmic, and Sportacus' return whine rumbled into a growl, and before either really knew what was happening, Sportacus had pulled Robbie off the bed, the man's knees hitting the cold floor hard.

Robbie let out an _Oomph_ , momentarily breathless as he was pinned against the mattress. Then Sportacus was flush against his back, and not one to go unchallenged, Robbie bucked downward, grinding himself into Sportacus' lap.

Sportacus, still slick with cum, thrust up inside Robbie with another growl, a warning, and that was _all_ the warning Robbie got that the haze was once more over Sportacus before an arm strapped across his collar to hold him pinned to the gyrating slab of muscle disguised as an elf. The other hand had snaked over to where Robbie's was a fist in the sheets. 

Then Robbie moaned once more, though not of his own volition, and the angle of the thrusts adjusted to elicit that sound from him again and again and again and again and _god_ -

Robbie needed to _come_ already.

FUCK.

Robbie threw his head back against Sportacus' shoulder, and the elf bit down on the crook of his neck, breaking skin, and Robbie needed more, wanted more. He keened, the elf growled. Then the arm about his chest lowered, as though answering his plea, and a sticky, hot hand wrapped around Robbie's cock and pumped.

Momentarily free, Robbie slipped against Sportacus' slick, rolling chest, and the grip over his fist disappeared, reappearing, perhaps unintentionally, over his throat. And the hand there squeezed in its attempt to keep Robbie upright, and Robbie wheezed past the tightening fingers, vision graying, but lightheaded and giddy and _good_.

And Sportacus' thrusts became short and hard and hurt and hit and Robbie couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could barely hang on to the anchor at his throat with no end in sight-

Then the world whited out in a blinding rush of noise, and Robbie was lost to coherency, thrown head first into a fevered euphoria. Only his quickly weakening grip on the wrist at his collar, and the steady warmth spreading down the abuse at his thighs alerted Robbie to the fact that he was possibly, improbably, most definitely still alive.

~

When next Robbie could feel again, he was once more laid panting on his back, sticky and sated and trembling against such a good hurt that he might as well have been dreaming.

In much the same shape, Sportacus had somehow gotten them back onto the bed before collapsing face down half-next to Robbie, half on him. And though a semi was weakly seeking Robbie's attention against his hip, Sportacus was significantly cooler to the touch than he had been all night (day?).

Robbie would have been worried (and slightly proud) that he had managed to kill the elf, if not for the heavy expansions of Sportacus' ribs against his arm.

“Hi Robbie.”

Robbie turned to the soft utterance to find Sportacus staring at him through half-lidded eyes with nothing but open affection.

And that should have been frightening if only in the way that it was not.

“Hi yourself,” Robbie mumbled, though he returned that dopey little smile.

Sportacus closed his eyes and sighed into the mattress, and yeah, Robbie was exhausted too, but-

“You okay?”

Sportacus peeked out at Robbie, before smiling, again, and working the villain's hand from beneath him. After the primal carnage they had just participated in, a simple brush of the lips against the palm should not have made Robbie blush as hard as it did.

“I'm okay,” Sportacus whispered, then laid his cheek in Robbie's hand. For a long, quiet moment, they merely stared at each other, comfortable, and warm despite the natural chill of the airship.

Then a small, knowing grin played at the corner of Sportacus' mouth.

And the promises held in those clear blue eyes sent a thrill through Robbie.

A week.

Or two.

Robbie could maybe perhaps do a week.

END

**Author's Note:**

> _Thank You for reading! I hope you found something you like! And like I said, first time writing smut, so if I missed a tag, please let me know!_


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